A Perfect Sonnet
by Sassy SOBettes
Summary: A new genre? X and H go through some turbulence.


[SOB St. Patrick's Day Challenge fic (Very belated of course).  Um…yeah.  This can probably explain why I normally write stupid-humor fics.]

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A Perfect Sonnet

From the beginning, nobody thought it would work.  Everyone had their doubts, even the party that was doubted.  It was simply ridiculous that two people so different could ever harbor anything aside from loathing toward one another.  It was almost like having a fire on the ocean floor.  It just couldn't happen.  But it had.  Then, the question on everyone's mind was 'how long would it last?'

Xanne Malloy and Harry Potter had been 'together' for roughly three months, and with each passing day, nobody could believe they had survived that long.  Xanne was quite a boisterous individual, often obnoxious, incredibly outspoken, and disliked by a fair few of the students at Hogwarts…hell, the question wasn't who disliked her, perhaps 'who liked her?' would be a bit more suited.  

First, there were the girls, aptly named 'cheer-chicks.'  They each had their own personality, sometimes utterly conflicting with another.  But they were usually an inseparable and tight knit group, and also thoroughly intimidating if the situation would call for it.  This was expected of them, they were Slytherins after all.  

But if truth were told, besides the cheer-chicks, anyone else who was acquainted with the dubbed 'scary' cheer-chick would probably wish for Cruciatus by the end.  The only thing that was positively scary about her was the rate at which she could clear a room.

But somehow, 'The boy who lived' found himself befuddled by the acquired taste that was Xanne Malloy.  Evidently her extraverted nature made up for his extremely shy behavior, and his innocence provided a challenge for her as well as the rest of the Slytherin girls.  Somehow, it just worked.  Nobody could find any logical explanation, nor did they want to.

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Xanne lay on her bed, her head hanging off of the edge.  Dark eyes stared blankly at the upside down wall for what seemed like hours.  There was no purpose, but to think.  Apparently some of those in her house believed she didn't do enough of it.  So she decided that she would abandon all distractions, leave everything behind, and just think.  It wasn't often that one just sat down and cleared everything out of their head before allowing their mind to swim, and it was an interesting experience, to say the least.  Her mind leapt from subject to subject.  From home life to homework, from potions to Potter, everything was analyzed and overanalyzed.  Perhaps there was a reason why she abstained from most forms of thought.  It was too damn critical.

But she came back to Potter over and over again.  It seemed that everything was absolutely perfect, which was why she enjoyed reminding herself of it.  Only one thing could possibly have been improved.  They were together a lot, almost every single night.  Contrary to the beliefs of Xanne's friends, most of what went on could not be deemed 'quidditch.'  The majority of their time together was merely talking.  Whether it was in depth conversations about dark and light or silly little quarrels over whose house or country was going to win the quidditch cup.  Xanne would argue that Ireland had it, but Harry insisted England was unbeatable. It would appear that one could listen to the other speak for hours on end.  They were very open with one another, and yet…they were never open with anyone else.  They rarely ventured out in the company of one another.  But Xanne assured herself; a relationship could be perfectly fine when out of the public eye.  

After all, Potter was quite famous.  If the word got out of Hogwarts that he had a girlfriend…Witch Weekly and The Daily Prophet would probably have a field day.  She could just see the headlines now.  "Boy Who Lived Monogamous with Muggleborn!?"   "Potter Seeks Sweetheart in Slytherin!?"  Xanne couldn't help but smirk; all in all, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.  But it would also make things incredibly awkward.  She had never seen him for his fame, nor was it ever a factor in their relationship.  Even so, it would be wonderful.  Wonderful to simply walk down the corridor hand in hand, knowing that you had something so strong, whatever anyone threw your way, you could take it.  Wonderful to know that the next time the Yule Ball rolled around, a cache of girls wouldn't be lined up outside the Gryffindor common room.  It would be wonderful to not feel like you were living one big secret.  

Maybe easing him into it would work.  So she decided to surprise him the next morning.  But in order to live to reap the rewards of this little endeavor, she would have to complete her potions essay.  One more incomplete assignment and she'd probably be kicked out of the bloody place.  The scratching of the quill continued late into the night.  Until, that is, a few green and silver pillows were thrown at the one bed with the curtains pulled open.    

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Early the next morning, one cloaked figure made their way out of the dorm and through the common room.  Everything seemed so quiet.  Everything seemed perfect.  Soon, everyone would be headed to breakfast.  She'd have to be quick.

Pausing in front of the cold stone wall, she muttered the password as she ran a pale finger over the crevices.  The seemingly solid wall shuddered and slid slowly to one side.  There was a swish of a black cloak and she was gone.

The dungeons were as dark as ever.  But they were home.  Traveling ever upward until eventually the dungeons turned into the halls.  Then there was the familiar staircase.  Once up it, around the corner was the common room.  A Slytherin simply walking over to the Gryffindor common room would arouse too much suspicion, so she poked her head around the stone corner and waited.

Oddly enough, moments later the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open on its hinges and a few giggling voices mused about something or other as they climbed out.  As familiar as they were, it took a few seconds to recognize the famous trio.  They made their way down the corridor.  Potter was in the center, flanked by Weasley and Granger. The hero, the overgrown Leprechaun and the brain…  It was laughable, how if there were some rhythmic background music, it could easily be a scene from an action movie.  Well, that is, until the portrait hole swung open once more and out stumbled a younger red-headed girl.

Ginny Weasley sprinted after the three, squealing for them to wait a minute.  She shuffled up behind them, straightening her tie, before throwing her arms around Potter's neck and planting a rather large peck on his dumbstruck lips.  He froze, a bit rigid, but did nothing to push her away.  She slumped down off of her tiptoes with a satisfied glint in her brown eyes before clinging to his arm.  Granger rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.  Ron Weasley's ears turned an alarming shade of crimson as he clenched his fists and looked away, taking deep breaths.  They made their way a bit further down the hallway.

Xanne, on the other hand, chose that moment to step out into the center of the corridor and look up from the ground, bearing the most bleak and dejected look her face would allow without bursting into tears.  It had been too good to be true.

Potter faltered in his stride, but regained his pace, meeting eyes with the girl in front of him.  He looked more resentful then ever.

"Excuse me, but aren't you in Slytherin?" Granger asked pointedly.

"Yes," the Slytherin choked out over the lump in her throat.  The trio with a training wheel kept coming closer.

"A bit far from home then, aren't you?" the elder Weasley said, with a touch of spite to his tone.

"I'm only as far as I mean to be.  Isn't that right Harry?" She looked back into the green eyes she had confided in.  Those same eyes that had looked back at her and drank in her secrets.  But then those eyes looked toward the ground.

"I'm afraid you must be mistaken," he said, as the group came to pass her.  The others chuckled lightly as they turned the corner.  

Potter's head turned slightly before it was out of view.  He mouthed a solemn 'I'm sorry.' 

"So am I," Xanne muttered, standing quite alone in the middle of the corridor.  He was embarrassed…too embarrassed to be with her.  

The re-entry to the common room was just as simple as the departure.  Nobody was there, once again.  Nobody noticed.  She walked into the dorm in utter silence and pulled out a small vial of sleeping potion she had stashed in her trunk before downing it and laying face down on her pillow.  She drifted into a dreamless sleep, just the way she liked it.

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Feeling a bit empty, she opened her hazy eyes.  The dorm was dark, but then…it was a dungeon, that was to be expected.  After fumbling about a bit, her wand was firmly in her grasp and she lit the nearest torch.  The first thing she could see was the green picture frame waving at her from her nightstand.  Just the thing she did _not_ want to see.  A messy head of black hair with emerald eyes peeking out from underneath ample fringe grinned as he clutched a laughing ball of girl in his lap.  The boy stopped waving and continued to tickle the girl.

She tore her eyes away and did whatever she did when she was angry.  She kneeled beside her bed and pulled a battered guitar case out from under it.  After snapping the latches open, she pulled out the smudged instrument and moved to the bed, placing it on her lap.  

There was one problem, no pick.  That problem was soon remedied as Xanne reached over to her night stand.  She picked up the frame and brought it crashing down on the corner of the end table.  Shards of glass flew onto the floor and onto the green bed.  A particularly nice one slid across the body of the guitar and halted before the pick guard.   It was almost a perfect triangle.  Seconds later, the first song that popped into her head was now unfolding over the strings.  The words summed the situation up almost alarmingly.

_"Lately I've been wishing I had one desire   
something that would make me never want another   
something that would make it so that nothing matters   
all would be clear then_

_  
but I guess I'll have to settle for a for a few brief moments   
and watch all dissolve into a single second   
and try to write it down into a perfect sonnet   
or one foolish line_

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Because that's all that you'll get so you'll have to accept   
you are here and then you're gone…"_

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"What the hell is that god awful racket?" Malfoy drawled from his comfortable spot on the couch.  Ravyn was draped lazily over him.  She waved her hand at the rest of the common room, clearly telling them to shut up.  After all, not everyone had ultra-sensitive seeker hearing.__

The other girls were able to hear it too.  They, unlike Draco, recognized it instantly as their housemate howling like a wolf caught in a trap.  All girls who were present stood and slowly made their way towards the dorm, the voice getting steadily louder.

_"…But I believe that lovers should be tied together and   
thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather   
and left there to drown   
left there to drown   
in their innocence_

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but as for me I'm coming to the final chapter   
I read all of the pages and there is still no answer   
only all that was before I know must soon come after   
that is the only way it can be   
  
_

_So I stand in the sun   
and I breathe with my lungs   
trying to spare me the weight of the truth__…"_

The girls paused outside of the door and peeked in through the crack.  There, sitting on the bed, was their housemate.  She was hunched over, tears splashing on the top of the guitar that sat in her lap.  The guitar had become almost deafening, which, in turn, caused her voice to get even louder.  The hand that was strumming the instrument was bleeding, though it didn't seem she had noticed that or the group of girls outside the door.

_"…saying everything you have ever seen was just a mirror   
and you've spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever   
and now you are laying in a bathtub full of freezing water   
wishing you were a ghost   
but once you knew a girl and you named her lover   
and danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer   
but autumn came, she disappeared   
you don't remember where she said she was going to   
but you know that she is gone because she left you a song   
that you don't want to sing…"___

She was screaming now, swaying back and forth.  The tears had faded and it seemed the sadness had morphed into rage.

_"…we're singing I believe that lovers should be chained together   
and thrown into a fire with their songs and letters   
and left there to burn in their arrogance   
but as for me I'm coming to my final failure   
I've killed myself with changes trying to make it better   
but I still ended up becoming something other than what I had planned to be…"_

Then, her head drooped and she noticed the bleeding of her hand.  Letting the guitar fall to the bed, she finished the last of the song in a little more than a whisper.

_"…Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers   
and laid entwined together on a bed of clover   
and left there to sleep   
left there to dream of their happiness."_

Assuming she had finished, the rest of the girls were about to open the door.  But then the girl on the bed stood up, lifted her guitar carefully off the bed…and hurled it at the opposite wall with all of the force she could muster.  It splintered and crashed to the floor.

Looking horrified at what she had just done, Xanne backed up slowly to the wall behind her.  When she came in contact with it, she slid down until she was sitting, resting her head on her knees and placing her hands over her head.  She sat there, shaking silently before the crowd outside of the door burst in and slowly made their way across the dorm.

They looked down, and she picked her head up, meeting their questioning eyes somewhat discomfited.

"He's embarrassed of me."

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End file.
